"bluffs" poems
it falls through the glow of the wintry trees
building a cover under the breeze
luminous lights sparkle and hatch
snow pack high on the briar patch
pine cones fall from rustic fir
squirrel and robin shuffle and stir
sitka spruce at tunnel bluffs
ravens roost on the cedar rough
dusted peaks at hurley pass
snowline cuts the avalanche
fox and lynx are on the prowl
hollow eyes from spotted owl
cool winds up the valley trail
whirling snow round diamond vale
chilling flakes in candle hands
moonlight shines across the land
northern lights in krypton green
the sounds of verve are bitter sweet
curtains hang from a cold dark sky
counting stars, a lullaby
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 12:17 AM UTC
~ Ode to Joy ~
White gold ambassador
canine past eight
soul seekers ascend
(from cirque to seven)
to peak
to peak
to peak
Saddlerock spearhead
ptarmigan
and flute
Christmas trees
in winter glades
over dusted crystal scape
Fissile (eiger) sanction
open shale and tusk
indiscriminate members
roll the bluffs
and ice falls
above the
north face steep
Dead silent dawn
breathless, bitter cold
the beating hearts
and brahmas
warm the spirit
of pakalolo
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 8:38 PM UTC
*towering gently overflowing with heightened awareness
subtle hints of blade’s keen glittering chiseled edges
untamed rugged surface powerfully averts gale’s acrid tempest
vigor pulsating that doth persuade the cloud’s reflections
if i shall not again embrace a meager glimpse; a demure echo
of thine towering mounts my soul shall ever suffer
my spirit soars with e'er one glance of thine majestic presence
replete with reminiscence seasons stir and beg thine tender mercies
to house the changing leaves at dusk of autumn’s auburn portraits
and give birth to crystal snow cascading peripherally in winter
which melding into spring then begs thy bluffs to cover
in soft amethyst of columbine blossoming first light of summer
‘tis not paramount to scale high aloft thine peaks in escalation
for small sheer glances stamp forever with imperial impressions
and ‘tho i’ve traveled ‘round and savored nature’s varied essence
none can compare thine evergreens laced in aspens nuance
my breath is gone and shan’t return ‘til in thy shadow casting
i stand and look upon thine hallowed face the rocky mountains
©2016 janetaylor
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 4:42 PM UTC
Saturday night, I’m getting crazy as usual,
taking pictures of my cats because they just look so beautiful.
Yea, some people go out, but I’ve got so much to do,
boys line up to take me out on dates but I tell them to shoo.
“Who are these guys?” you wonder, but don’t worry about that,
you wouldn’t know them because, they’re from a secret, hot guy frat.
I stumbled upon it once when I was out doing cool stuff,
like dancing with a king, and jumping off of bluffs.
Then one day, I jumped right into the hot guys secret lair,
and after I landed they could do nothing but stare.
I thought that they were looking at the mole on my face,
and I was right, but they loved it and begged me to stay at their place.
Not for the night, but forever, they didn’t want me to leave,
and who can blame them, I’ve got a badass weave.
But I had to decline, I just wasn’t ready for that,
so they said, “Come back anytime, even if you get fat.”
And with tears in my eyes, I bid them goodbye,
started my jetpack, and flew off into the sky.
I don’t have pictures of any of this because they were burned up in the fire,
but I can definitely assure you that I’m not a ***** liar.
But anyway, back to what I’m doing tonight,
I know that you’ll be jealous, you can’t help it, that’s alright.
I’m meeting up with Michael Scott and crew, but that’s not really a big deal,
we see each other every day, one time he tried to cop a feel.
Well, I may have just imagined that, which is probably pretty weird,
But I gave up on normal long ago, like my mother always feared.
Which is why I’m sitting here on Saturday night, talking to some cats,
who have low self-esteem because the media made them think they’re fat.
Those cats on the MeowMix commercials always look so thin,
no matter how hard regular cats try, they can really never win.
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell them, “Let’s just have some fun.”
So now we’re watching TV, because, what else would we have done?
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 12:09 PM UTC
...
I woke up from my dreamy sleep,
brought up in bright air.
Joyous bluffs everywhere.
Too mature was I, they say.
Hurt my soft heart many a times.
Look back, Life’s of some different kind.
From don't matter to I don't care.
I traveled through a lot of empty air.
I got hurt. Now I hit.
Blood leaking from my very good end.
Shouted - I Don't Care!
Thundering came a echoing beat.
All it said was, Sorry my lady.
I knew what it meant.
Blind me to the holy death.
Rain it is. Taking the world in, I said.
Drain me out. This is insane.
Do fast forward me through this pain.
Sorry. Sorry Is all I say.
Cause there is nothing left to gain.
...
-KD
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 11:15 AM UTC
She's a woman of integrity,
She recognises her beauty,
And her specialty.
Knowing she's not perfect,
She reflects before she can react,
She may not be every mans desire,
But that doesn't matter because its not something to require,
Love and total attention from one is enough,
Lots of times she laughs,
At times she even bluffs,
When life gets rough,
She gets tough,
She's a survivor,
Her familys reviver.
She's a woman,
A woman of integrity.
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 8:16 AM UTC
on the shore
only this morning, as ***** yawned
and wispy waves woke to sun’s call
with a million speckled sparkles of light
I was alone with my thoughts
and your crisp footprints in the sand
the scent of your hands still on me
fading with each mist filled breath I took
you were still there
your seed crawling down my leg
but tides change
and your prints soon filled with salt and sand
and the sun, our benediction only a dreamy minute ago
melted into the craggy bluffs
and I was left to walk alone
without your shivering shaft filling me
or your groping but grateful hands touching me
alone, on my night walk
alone, how I began
and will end, my…
night walk
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 11:12 PM UTC
The place was dangerous as hell; we had no business being there. It was a complex, composed of four immense structures, looming on the bluffs between Lake Michigan and a ghost town. I'm not sure which side of the fence brought forth more eeriness - the sight of four massive industrial skeletons was indeed an eerie one, but within the village that must endure it's haunting presence persists a dwindling heartbeat... and together they produced a heightened effect of slow decay - and that was what drew me in.
The place was magnificent day or night.
By day, we'd explore the groundworks while the light allowed us to admire the massive machinery, which by then had accumulated copious amounts of corrosion. All those dead giants, never to function again. In the spring time, beams of light would penetrate the ceiling above, caving in from years of stress sans stress tests. Even when the light was not shining through, one could make out where the beams have been because in their wake they left a trail of life. Up to that point in my life I thought that was the most beautiful scene I had ever seen - a thousand tons of old machinery, and a stubborn sunbeam poking through, incubating it's au natural industrialized chia pet.
By night, we would ascend to the rooftops of these four story horror stories and gaze up at the stars. Sometimes, when our ***** were feeling particularly swelled, we'd venture across the rooftops as if in some post-apocalyptic videogame. And sometimes when we were feeling a bit rebellious and artistic, we'd bring along some cans of spray paint and redecorate to our desire. Oh, and another reason the place reeked of death was surely due to it being a glue factory... wherein horses were killed in order to gain access to their foot-stuff. I was told by an unfortunate local that they'd bury the unwanted horse parts in big pits back behind the place... this man had told me that he fell into one while wandering around back there - nearly died trying to get out.
We knew the place was soon to be leveled, but we did not know when. Eventually I ended up moving out of state for a while, and alas, upon my return my childhood fascination was no more. shrugs... So it goes.
Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 4:18 AM UTC
.
Lear wanders in stormy open, bares warring elements,
The heavens blister, crackle, night is balmy shroud,
Wretched monarch babbles in sprinkles of wind cold,
Arguments lost by ones own pouring perturbations
And raining sky said 'nothing will come from nothing.'
Howl, howls into blackness treed in lightning splits,
His outcast soul, reels, fleshed, cut to smithereens,
Tang of salt burns on the bluffs and the sea rages,
So entire and ceremonious is Lear's fall meted out,
Air spoke, 'nothing from nothings ever yet was born.'
Sky proclaimed to man child King, here is a reckoning,
Each mad choice was self infliction, now wind flays
And sweet Cordelia lies in her innocent **** grave,
Sky, in thralls of thundering asks, 'what say thee now,
King of highborn follies, even purple heaths are rags,
Yet black and above you and night shades, whine,
Unworthy King, done in by compounded effects,
The might of maelstroms in low butterflies wings,
How now, bare trees, knifing reeds, skeletal flashes,
To rains of night are ever your lanyards my lord,'
Sad Lear so near oblivion fell mute, sky went on,
'Howl and cry mad King your reaper calls beyond,
The icy brisk heavens await to brusque you away,
Your slipshod kingdom was mere and fools' dream,
Howl, til howls abrupt abate, for nothing now comes.'
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 10:10 PM UTC
I gazed into his eyes like beads of sweat
Blacker than the empty spacious depths
Around the little bridge-like tiny speck,
An ember on His hearth
We only think is worth
Its broken wharfs.
He said to me: "Son, don't fear empty bluffs.
They may be steep but they're not steep enough."
And judging by the ace tucked in his cuff,
I knew he would be true
And his tale would be true too
About the wharfs.
"Throughout the many vicious centuries
The motor of it always seems to freeze
Until the kindled flame does hit the breeze
And thaws its frostbit joints
And burns the hand that points
Out from the wharf."
He cleared his throat and then he said aloud:
"Is piety reaped from fertile ground?
Or by the planter's hand is it endowed?
The answer lies in strife
So mount the throne of life
Far from the wharf."
Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 5:09 PM UTC
Go ahead and try and take advantage
Of the situation that you’ve created
You’ve got an unhappy customer on your hands
A mad ************
That’s so impatient
Demanding his previous payment
No empty threats or bluffs
Just concrete threats,
That will be kept
And Carried out
If I don’t get the real deal
Or my previous payment
Tire slashes in your wheels
Heinous phone calls
Broken windows,
Mark your peril,
It’s only the beginning
It’ll only get worse,
If you keep me waiting,
You haven’t heard the last,
Perils and danger
Mark you every step
Go ahead and try and take advantage
Of the situation that you’ve created
You’ve got an unhappy customer on your hands
That’s so impatient
Demanding his previous payment
You better watch your back
And realize that this is a result
Of you attempting to take control
Of the situation you created
You got a crazy mad ************ on your hands
Demanding his previous payment
No empty bluffs all concrete threats
That will be kept
If I don’t receive the real deal or my previous payment
Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 10:07 AM UTC
there is a camping trip planned and preserved
on the reservation of our hopes and dreams and summer sweet nothings. we
retreat upon an open-toed weekend, cooler gemmed
& ready.
there is a place in the mountains
& on that wooded ridge it is waiting to be seen and witnessed. lived
upon, lit upon,
seedling.
sure, i love you.
& sure, i’ll die. and that is forever.
& forever is -
no worry. no bluffs. no sweat.
because this life is right, and right now is everything.
yolk.
to become a bloom of love more than just words and digits and plays of
time. this time
is ours.
is good beer. great beer. &
the heat. the her. her soothes and sovereigns
on this land in which we live with the whole tribe and fun days.
we are our own dreams.
good dreams.
meet her on the shore of a river.
& she is listening and speaking and sung.
with an urge
to love and let begin.
take precedent. take my nettled little heart
and crackle like fire from it the nutrient of lonesome ode.
& from the strum of that
we begin.
we end.
we cog back into the existence of small time
small town nobodies. worked little we.
service and cinema.
thus
busting gut toward town and more weekends and more movement.
there is motion to this curve of time, kids.
curve of pages expressed
& exposed here in wayward traveled poems.
truths of some sort or hallucination. here
we daydream.
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 8:32 AM UTC
for Robin
On that frosted January day,
you and I hiked north
along the Mississippi shore
on a trail marked well before us.
Footfall tapestries etched in snow
wove tales of assiduous commerce
of hosts of fur-cloaked cousins:
the playful step-slide gambit of an otter -
rabbit paw tracks by the score.
A bald eagle soared above singing ripples
in quest of a mid-day meal.
The distant staccato cadence
of a pileated woodpecker
echoed off the limestone bluffs
on that January afternoon.
Dusk-light washed the western sky
in pastel gold and crimson hues.
A coal barge heading south
thundered against the floes,
scattering ice across the channel,
then vanished beyond the bend.
And we like bargemen at their tillers,
set our southward course
retracing footprints in the snow -
back to the world of clocks and enterprise.
January, 2011
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 6:14 AM UTC
even teddy said i got the sickest tricks brah.
like my abilities source from some kinda legendary liquid
/ praise the lord /
monster energy should sponsor me.
a kickflip over the king’s *** hole
& a halfcab for the looky-loos.
i feel so tall when i climb that heap of asphalt trimmings
& see clear from the water tower to the bluffs.
gimme a good day, any day at the bluffs,
bottlerockets & girly birds.
her body brings a swarm of worms.
decomp,
said the f.b.i. men one by one with tweezers.
not quite the homecoming queen, still
wrapped in plastic.
look up.
see that great mess of wires, nest of powerlines and owl bones?
it crackles and croons its electro-spectral purr
all night and day.
new neck tat &
cody spends his paycheck on a crossbow.
we target practice on a bull skull.
wet cigarettes and turpentine-soaked socks for a good huff
in the dry of the roofline as it dumps.
there’s that little boy in a ghost mask again, tap-dancing
in puddles below the streetlamp,
& oversized shoes.
his grandmoms always be watchin’ from the window.
[whispers] she’s teaching him magic.
lucky unit 19: where our young dead damsel once dolled
herself up, you see
men and headlights would roll thru thrice nightly,
maybe more.
& i remember her punch red lips &
big whicker hat; while she weeded and watered her garden of begonias.
the sheriff’s deputy, hart? hicks? hogan? well he loved her a bunch.
stole her clothes in the middle of the night,
& sat beside the river sobbing into clumped fists
of bra and blouse.
i bought ******* from that guy once or twice.
harold? howard?
guess who showed his face today?
josiah, from unit 08.
since the incident with molly’s beagle, he’s been rarely seen.
took a bee line straight for the mailbox.
a package. a prize. a decoder ring/secret map sweepstakes
to be seen and deciphered.
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 1:44 AM UTC
Redbirds, redbirds,
Long and long ago,
What a honey-call you had
In hills I used to know;
Redbud, buckberry,
Wild plum-tree
And proud river sweeping
Southward to the sea,
Brown and gold in the sun
Sparkling far below,
Trailing stately round her bluffs
Where the poplars grow —
Redbirds, redbirds,
Are you singing still
As you sang one May day
On Saxton’s Hill?
2.7k
i.
we spent the autumn day wandering
above the great river the woodland
of the bluffs as dusk fell, shots echoed down the
river canyon, we had completely forgotten
the deer firearms season had opened
down the old logging trail,
a glorious stag eyes wide with confusion
lurched from the wood
ii.
despite our noise, he stumbled ahead
down the road, and toward the hunters,
we could not turn him into the safety of the park
iii.
as the black night descended we
were surprised by a glow racing towards us
a man on a bicycle, brightly lit, not with just a
headlamp, but a whole string of lights,
wrapped around the tubes of his
bike frame, like a Christmas tree,
he nodded at us and rode past
iv.
as we sat around the fire back at camp,
silent, pondering the odd events
we had witnessed that day,
and the stag we had maybe sent off
to be killed by some hunter,
i wondered at the strangeness
of it all, this day, and all the days
like it, and all the days to come,
would they have been strange
without my being there to see them,
or, was the strangeness my seeing
them,
and my being, at all
stag, still, i am so sorry
Mar 16, 2012
Mar 16, 2012 at 7:07 AM UTC
The inlets
Wrap around the water
Writhing in the fury of the ocean’s waves,
Obscuring the distance they reveal
To the eyes that gaze absent mindedly
Down their beaches and their cliffs.
Indifferent to the conflict below,
The sun blazes down
But the winds cleanse the skin of its heat
As they are driven from the sea.
The sea that breaks the stoic rocks
And casts the sand’s lonely grains
-Along with the many homeless winds-
Across the beaches which slope
At the feet of their stony bluffs.
But the cliffs stand in austere grandeur
Defiantly surveying the endless waters
Whose numerous, ceaseless, enduring waves
Are kept at bay by the towering unity.
I am of the wind that has no home
In the conflict of sea and land
I am the sun that lights this vision:
Firmament of hills, sea and sand.
Tides come and go but never leave me
Sands shift in time but never deceive me
As sun I shine light on all at hand:
This ceaseless meeting of sea and land.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 6:00 PM UTC
RED barns and red heifers spot the green
grass circles around Omaha-the farmers
haul tanks of cream and wagon loads of cheese.
Shale hogbacks across the river at Council
Bluffs-and shanties hang by an eyelash to
the hill slants back around Omaha.
A span of steel ties up the kin of Iowa and
Nebraska across the yellow, big-hoofed Missouri River.
Omaha, the roughneck, feeds armies,
Eats and swears from a ***** face.
Omaha works to get the world a breakfast.
2.2k
Nothing
looks familiar
anymore and
I want to go home
but nowhere
feels like
it anymore.
When bluffs
get boring
I trade them
for fields.
When two
lakes aren’t enough
I leave for
a forest of them.
Maybe it’s true
that home isn’t
a place but
a feeling.
Maybe
home
is me.
But
what if
home isn’t
a feeling,
but a person.
Maybe
home
is You.
For now
I’ll have to
carry all that
makes a home
in my bones
until I find
someone I can
unpack into
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC
All tools are ******* symbols in the eyes of the disillusioned.
The mountains are phalli, the valleys and coves, vulvae.
Cross country crotch rocket, crevasse stretching, rough landscape.
All interconnected, like the bluffs on the beaches, with holes right through.
Ismism
Feminism?
Masculinism?
Equalism!
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 8:07 PM UTC
let me explore with great length
the cliffs overhanging peril in my mind;
bluffs that overlook a sea
of fear and self-consciousness.
let me not stay here in wretched form,
complying with rules made by them.
them the people who mock my self-worth;
them the people who wallow in my loathing.
let me conquer this world unknown
and explore the cracks & crevices of my mind.
even I know not what lays there, in darkness;
even I know not what I am or why,
or how, or even for how long.
I yearn for knowledge or maybe the absence of.
I fear the vices that consume me each night.
need I these vices always?
need I these vices every night forever?
I am afraid to know the answer.
despair is nothing in the face of truth.
help me get there;
help me be not afraid in the face of peril.
i will walk to the edge of that cliff and fall,
but what happens next, I do not know.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
Herein, laying dormant,
veils of reposed
secrecy 'neath
foamy seascapes'
frenetic passages,
languishing below
sunken treasures'
false facades of
reticently rolling
shrouded bluffs,
shaded of darkly impetuous
hued blood in
unceremoniously
bound convolutions,
a million ancient
undisclosed shadows hidden,
notwithstanding combative
rumblings of death's
unwelcome sycophancy,
depths of centuries'
old unparalleled stories,
whence hush-hush
undulatory influx
of defiant upsurges
and turbulence reside,
that of which only the
winds of indiscretion,
clandestine spirits
& gods could surmise
...as privileged moons watch over amaranthine skeletons
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 6:57 AM UTC
*You who have done wrong, who thinks your right.
In subsequent to your anger towards me,
you have no [right].
Still i ignore your snubs
treated it as a bluffs.
Glad that you ignore me
at times, even if you bore a grudge on me.
I'll received it as a parting gift
to forget whatever causes of grief
you've done.
I know this words will never reach you,
cause in life i don't want to give birth
to more misunderstanding. I am already
misunderstood and mistreated at times.
I just want to live-up to the silence of my comfort.
My independence is enough
to have a strong mind
and a stable heart to withstand
all the backslash of tongues.
a quote says:
everybody needs somebody sometimes
well i don't need one when I'm still able.
*
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 2:46 AM UTC
I knew every silly thing you bind.
In this play called love and its lies,
I played the role of a blind.
Where I saw nothing but complete lies.
Hints were flying as free as dove.
Yet, its freedom were like that of Zeus with love:
Careful execution of liberty
to avoid conflict from another party.
Oh! I see. No, erase.
I felt it in one click.
But I'm an actress and ought to act as is
for it was on the script--oh~ so thick!
And you saw me acting fine.
Despite on different foods you dine.
Because you thought I knew nothing in some cases
but deep inside I'm broken into pieces.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 2:47 PM UTC